Past, Darkly (The Dreams Book 2) Read online

  “There’s somebody I want you to meet tonight.”

  “You aren’t trying to fix me up, are you?” Maggie shielded her eyes from the sun as Charlotte put her sunglasses on.

  Smiling, she said, “No, Maggie, I want your approval. I have a man friend that I think I might just marry. Now that you’re on your own and comfortable, I guess it’s time for me to settle down. His name is Thomas. Thomas Bernard. He’s a German guy who moved here to work for Volkswagen and it seems he’s fallen for my Southern charm, like they all do. But I actually like him and think I can put up with him.”

  With that, the two laughed and took off in the SUV. They shopped all afternoon and had a wonderful dinner with Thomas. Maggie spent the night and slept better than she had since Rhett has disappeared from her life. But when she woke up the next morning, thoughts of Rhett were the first to cross her mind. Nothing had changed. Her tear-soaked pillow told the story of the pain held within her heart.

  She managed to use the cosmetics her aunt bought her the day before and make herself presentable in order to meet Charlotte and Thomas for brunch, then she drove southward to Atlanta. The drooping of the heavy lilacs mirrored within her. Spring is the worst time of year to be down, when life is on the upswing, she thought as she pulled into her driveway. The sun’s last rays kissed the day goodbye, and she walked into her tiny studio.

  The next few months saw little change with Maggie, except she did as Charlotte advised and assumed control of her assets. The only thing money did for her was assist in acquiring a trainer; Maggie wasn’t into material possessions, she was into that which could only be imagined and remain unseen. John was not her student during the summer session, and due to that, she began to meet him for an occasional coffee and a summer romance blossomed. He became her first lover, which surprised him and it was a gift he did not take for granted. John was a generous lover and the student became the teacher.

  September rolled around and Maggie received her Ph.D. from Emory University with full honors. She was retained as a member of the staff with full privileges. Charlotte and Thomas attended her graduation service. Afterward, they went to dinner with Maggie and John to celebrate. It was a lovely autumn evening, when the summer heat is waving goodbye and the crispness in the air makes each blade of grass and leaf free from the weight of humidity. The freshness of new was in the air. John left after dinner, promising to see Maggie later in the week. Charlotte and Thomas drove north to Chattanooga. Exhausted, Maggie returned to her apartment and read until she fell asleep.

  A voice said, “These are more beautiful than any book, and each has a story. Come follow me.” Motioning, he led Maggie into a house and locked the door behind him.

  The windows were high on the walls, and through their panes, sunlight streamed in a delicious mixture of psychedelic hues. On the table sat a bowl of cherries, which Maggie and the man consumed. While she ate, the man began to brush through her hair with a golden comb. Maggie felt herself blooming much as a rose in the springtime.

  “I’ve wished for a girl like you,” the man said. “Now you’ll see how well the two of us get along.” While he combed her hair, Maggie forgot all about Rhett, for the man was skilled in magic. But he was not evil or malicious. He only dabbled in magic to amuse himself, but he wanted to keep Maggie for more than a playmate. He went out into his garden and pointed his wand at the plants.

  “Look at what love can do,” he said. Before her eyes, the ground in front of her sprang to life, filled with roses in the full bloom of their beauty. He touched her hand and said, “Now that you’re here, I don’t want you to run away again.” He smiled and she knew his voice from a dream song.

  He led Maggie further into his flower garden. Every flower of the earth was in bloom and the fragrance was beyond compare. Maggie had never experienced anything so sensual or felt such pleasure in her entire life. She was happy and free, and they played like children in the garden until the sun set behind a row of ancient oak trees. After a scrumptious dinner feast, she was shown to a suite with a beautiful bed, which had a red silk cover, quilted with blue sapphires and diamonds. There she slept, and she dreamed as peacefully as any princess who had ever awakened to find herself queen following her wedding day.

  The next morning, she again went out into the warm sunshine to play with the flowers and his long hair. They did this for many dream days. Maggie memorized every flower by heart, but there was something missing. What it was, she didn’t really know. One day, she looked at the man and saw a rose tucked behind his ear. It was an Anne Boleyn rose – her favorite. The man had forgotten this flower on purpose. That’s the sort of thing that happens when one loves enough to think.

  “Why aren’t there any more roses like that here?” said Maggie. She ran among the flowers, and she looked, but there wasn’t another of those roses to be seen. Then she sat and cried. As hot tears fell on the ground, new flowers sprang up again, as if the magic man wanted to see her smile. He hugged her, his long hair falling softly like a curtain around her face, as if to close the pain. Yet she remembered the roses from the last time she saw Rhett.

  “Where am I?” Maggie asked. “I should be waiting for Rhett. Do you know where he is?” she asked the man, seeing the sadness that crossed his eyes. She continued, “Do you think that he’s gone forever?”

  “He isn’t dead,” the roses and the wind told her.

  “Thank you,” whispered Maggie, who looked at all new flowers that suddenly surrounded them.

  The man put his arms around her, brushing his lips against her face, and asked, “Do you have to know where Rhett is? Can’t you stay a while with me? Every flower under the sun dreams its own fairy tale. They can share their stories with us, one by one.”

  Maggie heard him and it felt so good to be held in an enchantment by someone so very handsome, she decided to let him tell her more. Looking into his blue eyes, she said, “You’ll tell me more about you?”

  “Yes, but I know nothing of Rhett. Let me make that clear to you,” he said as he took her hand and they began to walk through the maze of a garden.

  Seeing an orange day lily, Maggie said, “What does this flower say? Can it tell me a story about you?”

  “Do you hear the drum beating, keeping time? It’s only a few notes, a backbeat, to keep the tempo. Hear the women scream? Hear the backup singers chant? The voodoo woman in a purple robe in New Orleans stands saying blessings for my success, and a special prayer for me to find you. The flames rise around her as her prayers rise to the sun and moon, and her gods and goddesses. Crowds surround me everywhere, yet I am alone. Think not of him whose eyes have burned hotter than flames – of him whose fiery glances have pierced your heart. Can the flame of the heart ever die, or does it rekindle to burn anew for a hotter love?

  “That is for you to learn.

  “The world changes when fire loves water, but what happens when fire loves fire? That is for us to learn.” He turned and took her face in his hands, looking deeply into her eyes and caressing her right cheek softly with his fingertips.

  “I don’t understand that at all,” Maggie said.

  “That’s my fairy tale,” said the man.

  “What else do you have to say?”

  “An ancient castle rises high from a narrow path in the mountains. The thick ivy grows leaf upon leaf where it climbs to the balcony. There stands a beautiful maiden. She leans over the balcony to look down the path. No rose on its stem is as graceful as she. Hear the rustle of her silk gown, sighing, ‘Will he ever come?’”

  “Do you mean Rhett?” Maggie asked.

  “I am talking about my story, my own dream,” the man replied.

  “What will the little snowdrop say about you?”

  “Between the trees, a board hangs by two ropes. It is a swing. Two pretty people, one a young man the other a woman-child, play as they wish with any of their friends. They have a gentleman who is older than they are, who stands behind them on the swing with his arms around the ropes
to hold himself and them in order to protect them. In one hand, he has a bottle of champagne and in the other a pipe. He opens the champagne and the bubbles fly everywhere as they continually change their colors. A last bubble is clinging to the bowl of his pipe and fluttering in the air as the swing sweeps to and fro. The swing does not stop and gets captured in the wind. High and low the swing flies. A swinging board pictured in a bubble before it burst.

  “That has been my story.”

  “It may be a very pretty story, but you told it very sadly,” Maggie said. “I hope you and your friends are okay.” In the pond, she could hear the swans playing as they splashed in the mirror of the perfect surface. She turned and took the next flower on the path in her hands, and said, “What can the hyacinths share?”

  “There were three sisters, very fair. One wore red, the second wore silver, and the third went all in white. Hand in hand, they danced under a full moon, beside a lake. They were not fairy folk. They were human beings. The air was sweet, and the sisters disappeared into the forest. The fragrance of the air grew sweeter. Three boats, in which lay the three sisters, glided out of the forest and across the lake. The fireflies hovered about them like little flickering lights. Were the dancing sisters sleeping or were they dead? The fragrance of the flowers said they were dead, and the evening bell tolled for their funeral.”

  “You are making me very unhappy,” Maggie said. “Your story is so strong that I cannot help thinking of those sisters. They have to be the Three Fates in mythology. What does Fate have to do with us?”

  “Ding dong,” tolled the hyacinth bells. “We do not toll for Rhett. We do not know him. We are simply singing his song. That’s what the man does; he tells stories in songs.”

  “What do they mean?” she asked.

  “It’s all riddles and rhymes in dream time. All will be revealed as soon as the distractions are gone.” The man watched Maggie as he placed his long hair in a ponytail.

  Maggie went on to the jonquil that shone among its glossy green leaves.

  “You are like a bright little sun,” said Maggie. “Tell me your story.”

  The flower smiled as it looked at Maggie, then it looked at the man.

  “You can tell her your story; she is one of us,” he said to the jonquil.

  “In a small courtyard, the sun was shining brightly once upon a time. Its beams glanced along the white wall of a house, and close by grew the first yellow flowers of spring shining like gold in the sunlight. A woman was sitting outside in her chair. Her niece had just come home for a visit. She kissed her and there was gold, a heart full of gold, in that kiss. Gold on her lips, gold in her dreams, and gold above in the morning beams. There, I’ve told you my little story,” said the flower.

  “Oh, my Aunt Charlotte must miss me. But I’ll be home soon, and I’ll let her know once I arrive. There’s no use asking the flowers about Rhett. They don’t know anything else, and they haven’t any news. With that in mind, I really should go now.”

  “Please stay. I cannot make you do anything beyond your will.”

  He reached for her, but a fog had started to roll into the garden and it separated them. Maggie looked at him and noticed for the first time how vulnerable he appeared and became curious to know where she had seen him before. She tucked up her skirt so that she could run, but the narcissus tapped against her leg as she jumped over it. So she stopped and leaned over the tall flower.

  “Perhaps you have something to tell me?” she said. “Since you are a narcissus, this must have to do with Natasha. What did she say?”

  “I can see myself! I look in the mirror and I can see myself! Oh, how sweet I am. I am so beautiful. My skin has its own fragrance! I’m a tiny dancer, half undressed. Watch me. First I’ll perform on one leg. Then I’ll stand on both and let the entire world kiss my ass and toss money to watch me as I become known throughout the entire world. I am an illusion on stage. In real life, I am but a reflection. There’s nothing there. I’m as empty as an abandoned house.” She poured wine from a bottle onto a wooden table. “Oh look. I can’t even do this correctly.”

  She held a finger in her mouth and touched her breasts, circling one nipple then the other. “Cleanliness is not a virtue. A white dress is all I have to wear to hide my sins. No one will believe the things I’ve done.” She walked naked to remove a dress that hung from a hook on the wall. It had been washed and starched in the old Southern manner. She slipped it on and tied a blood red scarf around her waist. It made her waist look tinier and the dress whiter. “Point my toes, smile, take off my clothes, and people give me money. It’s so very easy because I am so pretty. See how straight I look to the outside world. I can fool everyone because I am smarter than they are. They don’t know I’m crazy,” she said and laughed hysterically, twirling and landing in a heap on the floor. Finally, she looked up and said, “Where’s the mirror? I can’t see myself! I can’t see myself!”

  “I’m not interested,” said Maggie. “What a nothing to tell me about. She doesn’t care about Rhett, and she never really has.”

  She ran to the end of the garden, and though the gate was fastened, she worked the rusty latch until it gave way and flew open. Maggie ran back to the world in her bare feet. She looked back three times, but the man didn’t come after her. She heard his song in the distance. Mists veiled the garden. When she could run no more, she sat down to rest on a rock. When she looked up, she saw that summer had gone by, and it was late in the fall. She could never have guessed it inside the beautiful garden where the sun was shining, and the flowers of every season were always in bloom.

  “Gracious! How much time I’ve wasted,” Maggie said. “Fall is already here. I can’t fiddle around anymore.”

  She got up to run to her next class, but she was so tired. The world appeared cold and bleak. The long leaves of the willow tree had turned yellow, and beads of mist fell from them like drops of water. One leaf after another fell to the ground. Only the apple trees still bore fruit, and it tasted so sour to her.

  Her entire future looked dreary and gray.

  A knock on the door woke her from the dream. It must be John. “Just a second,” she called.

  She brushed her hair and quickly dabbed on a light lipstick, then lit a candle. The dim glow reflected softly from the old mirror she had repaired following the accident when it fell from the wall. She opened the door to see a silhouette in the darkness, the glow of the night bugs surrounding him like a halo.

  Turning around, Rhett smiled that smile she had loved her entire life and said, “Mind if I come in?”

  Her heart exploded into a thousand pieces as he took her in his arms and pushed the door shut behind him. Her legs surrounded him as he held her in a passionate embrace against the wall. As they kissed without speaking, tears of release rolled down Maggie’s face.

  Home. This must be what home feels like.

  Not a word was spoken as he picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  ~~~

  Past, Darkly

  (The Dreams, Story 2)

  For you, always

  Table of Contents

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  DOCUMENTS OF INTEREST

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  He shot me.

  It was the first time I had ever been lost in the Chickamauga Battlefield. The headaches had returned and I simply wanted a day by myself. No stress, no pressure from anyone or anything. Even with my connections, I knew the doctor couldn’t see me until Monday and there was nothing to be done except to attempt to relax. I pulled to the side of the road and par
ked the car to get out at a site where the history markers were close together. Union and Confederate soldiers had fought in hand-to-hand combat. Never had something historic touched a part of my soul so completely. I noticed there were no other cars or visitors around the meadow. I was alone, with only my thoughts.

  An image of tired, homesick boys and men fighting flashed through my mind. The cannons and gun smoke probably left little visibility. They could have been shooting or killing their own brothers, cousins, or members of their units. The thought made tears flow from my eyes.

  As I opened the car door, the cool autumn breeze kissed my face. The sun reveled in a cloudless sky on a day that held no humidity. It was as if electricity filled the air. Locking the car door, I placed the key in my jeans and walked toward the first marker. I wanted to know more about this place, now so peaceful, yet once a site of death and heartbreak.

  Overhead, a cloud blocked the sun. Shading my eyes, I looked up to see a small rain cloud, heard a clap of thunder, and felt drops of rain. Dang, this rain is going to mess up my good day. A shaft of lightning struck a nearby tree. That was when the pain ripped through my skull. The electricity from the storm must be triggering a migraine. The sky appeared to be melting as my vision slowly disappeared. Pressing my hands to my head, I tried to block the amplified sounds that the migraines induced. The thunder and wind were deafening. It was as if every leaf jarred the earth as it landed. As I attempted to shield my face from the elements, the ground beneath me shifted and swayed, matching the overhead turmoil in the sky. Heaven and earth felt as if they had turned against me. The car...I had to get back to the car and my phone. The lightning crackled once more as it spiraled me into an open chasm of pain and a disconnection from my senses. The headache was now so intense, I could no longer see or hear. There was only a sensation of nausea and a foreboding as I was swept into a maelstrom of pain. Feeling as if I was suspended in the air, I then stumbled into the wet dirt of the battlefield.